Alice In A New Wonderland
by The Cursed and Torn
Summary: Alice Abernathy was not a fan of irony. Following down the proverbial rabbits hole, she's ended up in a Wonderland featuring homicidal machines that made the Red Queen look innocent in comparison, eight foot tall angry lizard men with a penchant for destruction, a blue skinned sci-fi geek's wet dream, and a woman whose temperament and skill with a gun may actually rival her own...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, nor Mass Effect and its characters. They are owned and licensed respectively by Capcom and Constantine Films, and Bioware and EA Games. I am merely borrowing them to make a entertaining piece of fiction.**

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**/-/Author Note/-/**

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**I'm on a bit of Resident Evil hype for some reason or another. I actually was able to buy all three films (I already own Afterlife) awhile ago, which I am immensely pleased about. For some reason, it was rather difficult to find the films themselves. Four different stores and only two of them had the movies, most of which were Blu-Ray (which I don't have), and only one of them sold all three, which was in a combo pack, and the very last one on the shelf. Worth the $25 dollars, I assure you. Anyway, this sort of just popped into my head and I just went with it, seeing as they're aren't that many crossovers featuring the film characters of the Resident Evil universe.**

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Prologue

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A woman of indeterminate age, vying between mid to late twenties, gave her surroundings a very brief, if not thorough once over as she slowly slid down the bark of a tree, giving out a hiss of pain as her wounded leg protested the strain she was putting on it.

Looks similar to that of runway models, even with her short brunette hair in disarray, dirt and dried blood caking slightly on her face and skin, her clothes burned, cut, and in general disrepair, the woman could easily turn heads without even a glance in her admirer's direction. A thin and lithe frame, very few would consider the woman an actually threat in any given fight, and would spend more time ogling her then actually appraising her for combat capability. That in itself had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as during her security stint back for the Treasury Department, coworkers as well as culprits underestimated her in a fight, giving her an unneeded, but appreciated advantage.

Not that stopped the rumors that she had got her position in the security division due to "rendering services" to some sort of board executive within the Treasury…

Shaking her head and ridding herself of the rather useless, if only vague memories of her former life, the woman reached for the hem of her black shirt, tearing off a large piece before splitting it down the middle while at the same time outstretching her wounded leg, biting the leather harness strapped to her shoulders to keep the pain infused yells to a minimum from the movement.

Rolling her pants leg up, which was proving to be a rather worthless effort due to its terrible condition, in addition to the copious amount of blood coating it from her injury, she simply tore the offending garment off, revealing her newest injury to the her line of vision.

Though truthfully she had seen worse injuries (so much worse), it was still bad by all rights. A solid hole had been punched right through her femur bone, about the size of tennis ball. Blackened skin signifying burn damage coated the outer skin, in addition to the inner muscles and nerves of her leg, but due to her slightly unique…abilities, the wound did not cauterize as high temperature injuries usually would.

She grimaced slightly as she witnessed her bone beginning to _re-grow_ itself, the hole slowly forming back to a solid mass, the skin stitching itself back together, the damaged nerves reattaching themselves. It was a sickening sight to behold, and it took a considerable amount of her willpower not to vomit at the sight.

Swallowing her rather dry throat, and moving her vision away from her slowly, but surely healing wound, the woman used her torn shirt piece as a makeshift bandage, tying a tight knot around it, hissing slightly at the pain before slumping herself backwards, a bead of sweat working its way down her brow to her cheek.

Licking her lips and wetting them, she gave the forest area around her a once over again, only this time taking the time to pay attention to the small details she had failed to take notice earlier or simply ignored outright.

The trees she immediately noted were different. Not only were they full of life, which was a miracle considering the hellish dirt ball that was now Earth, but they were also unlike any tree she has seen before. Tall and lanky, the bark a near aquamarine green, and the leaves a dark shade of red, they were a species of plant life she had never witnessed before, and were undoubtedly a collection of hybrids of some sort.

Looking up past the tree lines, she noticed the sky's nearly blood red color, which she had come to the conclusion was not at all natural, which was only confirmed when red lightning bolts soared across the clouds, though there wasn't a single drop of rain to signify the beginning of a storm.

Odd, more like disturbing really, but that wasn't the worst occurrence that she had seen today, let alone the past several hours.

Absently, she rubbed the bandaged wound on her leg, ignoring the pain that the action caused, her mind racing as the image of grey colored…_robots_ of all things, came to the forefront of her mind, oddly shaped weapons in their three fingered hands, and how one had pulled the trigger, putting a round right through her currently injured leg.

She had blacked out momentarily from the pain, already in a weakened condition to begin with, and when she had awoken, the walking tin cans had her by the arms, dragging her across the ground, taking her somewhere, though where she did not know or care.

Using her impressive skill set of martial arts, and thankful momentarily for her slightly returning abilities, managed to break free of her captors, shoving her fist through one's head (or what she assumed was the head), and throwing a solid kick to the other's chest, once again breaking through the metal covering. She did not wait to see if either of her opponents were dead, and instead ran, or limped as she had then started to become aware of the intense pain her leg was in, towards the dense forest life that surrounded her.

Hours, perhaps minutes, she wasn't entirely sure, but she had kept going for as long as her body could before slumping down in exhaustion.

And now, since she had been able to attend to her injury, alone and for the moment, safe, the woman started to think. And with this action, came memories.

After killing the man solely responsible for the end of the world, she and her friends and allies for the briefest of moments, felt at peace. Content, happy even. Safe. Safe from the infection, from the dangers that the world now held due to one man, and by extension, one company under his leadership.

That sense of security lasted for all but five minutes before at least over one hundred attack helicopters appeared over the horizon, firing missiles and bullets while deploying troops, and killing off the two thousand passengers aboard. She had tried to defend them, having them retreat to the bottom of the ship, hoping to get the remaining survivors to the air transports and escape. That plan had failed, and she had watched helplessly as men, women, and children were slaughtered in front of her, her friends captured, and having one of her treasured comrades, brainwashed, aim a gun to her head and pulling the trigger.

And then she ended up waking up to the sound of screaming innocents ringing in her ears. She watched as men and women were brought to these three pronged bases, giant spikes impaling them high into the air, their blood and organs raining from the sky like rain. Children simply killed on sight, with no sense of consciousness. It reminded her too much of the countless innocent children she watched get ripped to pieces by the large masses of infected corpses.

So ultimately, it came to no surprise when she had leaped into the fray, guns blazing, firing shot after shot at the cybernetic monstrosities. Her bullets, simply being small tubes of metal with gunpowder, merely bounced off the armor worn by the humanoid machines, though that did not stop her increasingly growing strength from creating decent sized dents in their place.

However, these machines, unlike the undead corpses she was used to fighting, weren't as simply minded or slow to react as she was used too. In the time frame it took for her to tear off one of the machine's head from its body, it took for a second one to level her in its sights and pull the trigger.

This again was why she had a giant hole in her leg.

Closing her eyes and leaning her head back, she tried to come up with some sort of plan, though nothing was truly forthcoming. She was obviously no longer anywhere remotely familiar, both in terms of scenery and timeframe. Remembering that she had been shot in the head, and that she had 'died' beforehand, and yet lived, she wouldn't have put it past her former employer's to have recovered her body, experimented on her, and then reactivate her in the middle of nowhere. Hell, they could have built those damn walking robotic nightmares as a means to test her combat capabilities. At this point, anything was possible.

She scoffed slightly, realizing that in her weakened, tired, and injured state that her mind was simply grasping at straws. In all honesty, there was really no explanation for the situation that she found herself in.

Gingerly, her mind turned towards her friends, and she held herself to a moment of silence, praying to whatever gods or goddess out there that wherever they may be, that they were now safe and at peace.

A loud and deep horn like sound was her answer.

Covering her ears and her face contorting slightly in pain, she glanced up to the sky, her expression going from pain, to shock, awe, disbelief, and finally fear.

Breaking from the heavens above, shrouded in red flashes of lighting, its tentacle like appendages stretching outwards like that of the hand of a god, was a leviathan of legend. Magnificent as it was frightening, she could not help but swallow the lump in her throat at the sheer size of it as it descended down to the ground.

She had just fallen down the preverbal rabbit hole and came out in an f***ed up version of Wonderland. And what she saw would make the damn Jabberwocky look like a defenseless kitten in comparison…

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She did not like being injured. It was not from a fear of pain, or an aversion to suffering any form of injury. It was because if she was injured, that exposed a weakness to her enemies. And considering who exactly her enemies were, and the horror they could, and willingly unleashed upon her world, she couldn't afford to show weakness. Ever. Injured as she was however, her combat effectiveness had lowered significantly, thus a weakness they she was not at all happy about. While still able to wield a weapon, a gun in this case, her accuracy was basically shit now. Only wielding her shotguns, which she only had a few shells left for each, her center was off now, and each shot unless taken at very close range would undoubtedly miss. Add in the fact that each shot would cause her small frame to buckle slightly, which would put more strain on her injured leg then as is, would put her in more pain then she was comfortable with.

As a result, she had to make each and every shot count now. She couldn't afford to miss. Not now.

Especially not after what she just saw. Not after what she just saw.

What she had seen as machines simply systematically killing select humans through those giant spikes, had turned to be a much more gruesome and terrible fate.

Transformed into glowing, mindless monstrosities, she a violent flashback of equally terrifying creatures from her own world, wearing the faces of friends and family, all with blood dripping from their blackened teeth, eyes milky white, and reaching for her with their pale white hands…

The sound of gunshots going off had awakened her from her trancelike state, and she found herself surprised to see her shotguns out and smoking, one of those undead creatures, a husk of its former self, lying in a pool of its unnatural colored blood.

She didn't stick around to see if there were any more of them somewhere.

Stumbling, she entered into some sort of warehouse, or so she believed. The door had been torn open and thrown to the side, a small fire burning on top of the building and on the grassy plain before it. It was a scene she had seen many times in the past several years, and had grown used to.

The copious amounts of blood on the inside merely made it all the more familiar.

The dead bodies made it feel like home.

At the door, a gun in hand, (or what she assumed was a gun) was what appeared to be a civilian wearing what appeared to be some sort of lab coat. A scientist of some sort perhaps? His torso was riddled with holes, the smell of burnt and charred flesh rising from his motionless corpse. Kneeling beside the body, she unnecessarily checked for a pulse, and after finding none, removed the gun from his cold grip. Holding it up to her face, she took note of its odd shape. A pistol by design, or so it appeared, it felt odd and misshapen in her hand. Larger and far blockier to what she was used to, its design was overall sleek, if just a bit unpractical. She did not see a hammer to cock back, or a place to eject a spent clip or how to precisely reload the gun. Even the way to properly handle it, was off to what she was used to, having to hold it in an odd angle with her hand, putting more strain on her wrist in comparison to her magnums, when she still had them. It lacked sights to make targeting easier, and due to its large size, would not fit in any of the holsters she had present. If nothing, the only the only true redeeming factor of the weapon was the fact that those walking death machines carried the similar armaments and they had punched a solid hole through her leg. If this pistol even had half that firing power, it could determine whether she would live or die in this shithole.

Holstering her shotguns, and taking the pistol in to hands, still trying to find an easier way to hold it, she stepped out of the warehouse, leaving the dead where they lay. Usually, she would have put a bullet in their heads to make sure they stayed that way, but circumstances proved to her that the walking dead didn't rise from the ground, but fell from their perches in the sky…

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She was getting better with her newly relinquished pistol. Three shots against those blue glowing undead husks, two of which drilled them between the eyes, stopping them dead cold, and the other blowing a quarter of the third's skull off from its head.

That last one was a bad shot. She had meant to nail it between the eyes too, but as she observed earlier, the grip on the gun was odd and not something she would get used to without more practice.

Practice that she was getting plenty of as it seemed.

Aiming her pistol once more, she fired a few shots, nailing a few more of those undead like creatures in the head, though this time she managed to land three shots consecutively in between the eyes, the other two nailing her targets in the forehead and temple. Not perfect, but three out of five wasn't too bad…

Stepping over the bodies that littered the camp ground she currently found herself at, she took a look around her surroundings, finding several of the deceased to be wearing lab coats, but others wearing something akin to manual labor clothing, and others armor beyond the realm that she had ever seen. Though the majority of them badly burnt and suffering heavy damage, they still looked rather resilient and much more impressive then the Kevlar armor she had worn while working for the Treasury or Umbrella.

Taking her eyes off the departed, she turned her gaze further down the camp site, finding what looked to be some sort of dig site further down. About to make her way there and look for any possible survivors, or at least an explanation as to where she was and how she had gotten here, her returning ultra sensitive hearing picked up the slightest falls of footsteps behind her. Evenly measured, slow but increasing in stride, but lacking the heavy imprint that she recognized from those tin cans, nor the shuffling from those walking nightmares, she determined that it was probably a survivor of some sort.

She was about to lower her guard, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught on the visor of one of the dead and heavily armored humans beside her, the reflection of whomever was approaching them. Or rather, what they were carrying in their hands, aimed directly at her back.

A weapon, similar to the ones that those walking death machines carried.

And the figure just moved their finger to the trigger.

Whirling around and pulling out one of her shotguns, she leveled it as well as her pistol at the person sneaking up behind her, only to find a woman in white and bright pink armor, startled at her quick reaction, but not lowering her weapon of choice to the ground, and instead bringing up to bear directly at her face.

The two women just stared at one another, one holding up her rather odd looking assault rifle, and the other one of her double-barreled shotguns and newly relinquished pistol.

The one in pink and white armor's grip slackened slightly at the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls, which were moving in a double line formation. Her own grip slackened for a moment, before bringing it right back and leveling it at the armor wearing woman in front of her.

While it was definitely not another of those walking tin cans, she wasn't about to let her guard down, especially if the new comers to this little party were as equally trigger happy as the woman in front of her.

In a few short moments two other beings, humans thankfully, came running towards them, both dressed similarly to the woman that she had in gun range, though with quite a few differences.

One was male, and had what appeared to be some sort of lighter version of the armor the woman before in pink was wearing, par that the color scheme was on the darker variety. Armed with a similar pistol to her own, he had it aimed immediately at her once had quickly assessed the situation. Black hair that was groomed back, tan skin and somewhat delicate if not somewhat good looks, she would label him as somewhat classically handsome, reminding her of those old photos of her grandfather back in 1940's and 50's. His armor, unlike the woman she still had her shotgun leveled at, while it didn't look brand new, seemed to be well taken care of, which added another dimension to the man in front of her.

Truthfully however, the only thing she cared about was the fact that he was leveling a gun to her face, and she returned the gesture in kind, quickly shifting her grip to the one he was using on his own pistol, mirroring his exact movement within three seconds flat. While still feeling a tad odd, she wasn't putting so much strain on her wrist now holding the weapon, which she knew immediately, between the eyes with no trouble.

Glancing at the last figure that approached her, she figured if things progressed any worse, she'd at least have her three new practice targets.

The last newcomer, a woman based off of her frame and armor had a similar weapon to the one wearing pink, though it was in a more lax position. Similar to her female counterpart, she wore a helmet, though she could see the shining green irises of her eyes underneath the somewhat dark visor that was meant to shield them. Fair white skin, much like her own, she noticed that the woman's armor, while not new and obviously taken care of from the slight shine that it still gave off, had marks of battle that a simple coat of paint couldn't hide or get rid of. Scorch marks from what looked like bullet holes, scratches that looked like it had been made by either a knife or claws; she looked like a woman who had been to hell and back.

With a posture that exuded a sense of confidence and charisma, she was the femme fatale in living breathing form.

And then she spoke.

"I'd recommend putting the weapons down miss. Especially the relic in your left hand. If that's as old as I think as it is, and has any live ammunition with gunpowder, there is a pretty good chance that it's going to possibly blow your hand off if you try to fire it."

An eyebrow rose before she responded in kind.

"It works just fine. Trust me on that."

After a moment, she directed the shotgun at the woman's direction, her body still at the ready, though by all appearances seeming lax. "Or would you like a demonstration on how will it can shoot?"

The woman in the onyx armor, which she also duly noted had the letter and number N7 printed on the torso (a distinguishing rank perhaps?), smiled slightly, though there was a slight strain to it. Obviously this woman was under a bit of duress, but then again as she cocked the hammers on her shotgun and back onto its original target as the pink armored soldier tried to move in close to her on her left, so was she.

Fighting for survival against a population of probably more than four billion that wanted to tear you apart and eat you would do that to a girl.

"No, I'm fine, thank you though. Not very often I actually get a choice in whether or not I want to be shot at."

A sarcastic smile graced her face in reply.

"You're welcome."

Nodding her head slightly to her compatriots, (both of which reluctantly followed her silent orders), holstered their weapons of choice, the man placing his pistol to his waist which magnetically attached itself to the belt on his waist, while folding up into a misshapen cube of sorts, while the woman's rifle shrunk to a rectangular shaped box on her back. The woman in onyx armor did the same, before stepping up to her person, taking easy cautious steps, relaxing her body into a placating manner.

It was meant to show that she had no intention of hurting her and to put her at ease.

She leveled both her weapons as the woman's face.

All it did was serve to patronize her.

"Don't patronize me."

She told her as much.

Stopping short, the woman decided that having taken the wrong approach chose the more direct route.

"Your injured, and from the looks of it, pretty badly. You are using an age old weapon that EVEN if it still could fire, uses ammunition way out of date not to mention ineffective in regards to current technology. You look like you've been fighting for your life for days on end, and don't have a clue on how to use that pistol in your hand. I noticed how you adjusted your grip after noticing Lieutenant Alenko's own handle on his pistol. We've holstered our weapons and wish to help you. Aiming your weapons at us isn't exactly convincing us that helping you is the right thing to do."

She knew what the woman was getting at, and she had a point. It really wasn't helping her situation one bit, but after having the likes of Jill, Carlos, Angela, and L.J trying to help her, and three of them ended up dead, and one's mind completely subservient to that of the organization that branded her insane and ordered her killed…

It was understandable her reluctance to accept anymore 'help' from anyone, especially from heavily armed soldiers.

However, taking note of the olive branch that was being offered to her, and knowing that she honestly had very little to gain from refusing, she indulged their offer with a tight smile, holstering her shotgun, though reluctantly, relinquishing the pistol the woman in onyx armor.

"Excellent. Kaidan, check her injuries, and get a supply of medi-gel on her right forearm and left leg. Looks like those are her worst injuries."

Taking note that the man's name was Kaidan, if only not to seem rude, she reluctantly allowed him to check her forearm as well as leg, add some sort of orange paste like substance that quickly moved on its own across her skin, hardening and sealing itself around her wounds, acting somewhat as a cast to her surprise, minus the debilitating effects of movement, and sending some sort of drug into her system that numbed the pain. It didn't heal her injury; although she noticed that it did help close her wound all the faster.

Kaidan noticed as well or that at least that the medi-gel, or whatever they called it, was doing its job a bit better than it was supposed to.

He shot her a suspicious glance, which she returned with an aloof, if not uncaring expression. Whatever the man's suspicions, she'd let him keep them swirling around in his head for a bit. It wasn't as if she was going to begin spilling out her secrets to him…

After giving the woman in onyx a nod, signaling that he patched her up as best he could, the woman came over to her, kneeling before, bringing herself to her eye level.

She was feeling patronized again, but let it slide for the moment. The woman still had her pistol after all.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Commander Shepard, the Executive Officer of the SSV Normandy SR-1. The man that helped patch you up is Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko."

Alice soaked in the information that she was told, her sharp and keen mind filling in the gaps, forming a more complete picture of the small group before her. The woman in onyx armor was military, and a high ranking officer at that. Second in command of what she believed to be a battleship, though she hadn't heard of one going by the name Normandy, and she had no clue what the SR-1 stood for aside from a possible specialization, if not a unique ship altogether. The man, Kaidan was only perhaps a few ranks below the woman, and probably an equally seasoned soldier just like the woman named Shepard.

Taking the opportunity presented, the woman in pink armor raised her hand in a salute before saying, "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams ma'am."

A quarter master then? A weapons specialist no doubt and an infantry soldier at that, though she was curious as to why she seemed like this was her first combat situation. The fact that she was willing to shoot first instead of verifying if what she had been aiming at was an actually enemy, was an amateur mistake that only those just recently on the field tend to make.

Pushing such thoughts and concerns to the side for the moment, she nodded her head in reply and deciding that while she may not trust them just yet, and may never do so, all things considered, she should at least for the moment anyway, give them the benefit of the doubt.

Until they revealed their real motives anyway. If they weren't in her favor, she'd deal with them the same way she's dealt with all her problems in the last several years. With a bullet between the eyes.

Smiling politely with no warmth reaching her eyes, she noticed how the one called Shepard returned the gesture in equal measure.

"My name is Alice, nice to meet you Commander Shepard."

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**/-/Author Note\-\\**

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**A current one-shot, this will probably be updated later on in the future to a full length story. For the present moment, I have way too many projects going on and simply decided to write this bit down quickly while it was fresh in my mind. The hope is to have a more concrete draft written down for this story and possible sequels and maybe if I'm lucky, actual chapters ready to be posted. Anyway, review and let me know what you think about this little one-shot. Criticism is always welcomed, so long as its actually constructive.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: Alice Abernathy was not a fan of irony. Following down the proverbial rabbit's hole, she's ended up in a Wonderland featuring homicidal machines that made the Red Queen look innocent in comparison, eight foot tall angry lizard men with a penchant for destruction, a blue skinned sci-fi geek's wet dream, and a woman whose temperament and skill with a gun may rival her own.**

**A Mass Effect/Resident Evil Film Series Crossover.**

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Chapter 1: One Foot Into the Rabbit's Hole

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Alice walked steadily behind Shepard, her pistol in hand. She had what apparently was a kinetic generator strapped to her waist, which from the quick explanation that was given to her by Alenko, in which apparently was the 'dumb' version, generated a repulsive mass effect field, which was an element called Element Zero, or eezo, that once subjected to an electrical current, generated dark energy that could be used to generate 'shields' on a person or ship, used to create mass accelerator weaponry, such as her pistol, or FTL travel. Alice for the most part, didn't catch that, though she figured that was due to the man's terrible description, and the fact that he probably assumed she knew most, if not all of the information he spoke off, if not the most prevalent.

Regardless, Shepard simplified it to the fact that it would give her some minimal protection against the geth, (which she learned were in fact artificially intelligent machines), though not much. It had been taken from one of the bodies of the soldiers that were laying around, and with a bit of fiddling on both Shepard's and Alenko's part, and much protest from Williams whom felt that the dead should not be disturbed, or robbed as it appeared, were able to jury-rig it into a harness for her. It was flimsy at best, and would probably take only one or two shots before it overloaded and needed to recharge, but it was better than nothing. Armor was a completely separate matter altogether, and Alice didn't feel to keen on the idea of stripping a dead body for a bodysuit, that by all appearances, didn't do much in protection.

If it did, then the men and women wearing them wouldn't be dead, now would they?

Black humor. It was something that she had always had, though it was more lighthearted before the world went to hell and the dead rose.

Still caused a rather bleak smile to cross her face before it disappeared as they came across another campground, this time with fewer bodies, though those Husks, as they were now adequately called, hung above them, suspended in the air on those giant metal spikes.

Having already countered several of them before, Alice was already prepared for the next few moments, already pulling out her pistol and ready to fire.

"Dear god…"

Alice's eyes twitched at that. The Gunnery Chief, Williams, was apparently religious, Christian to be more specific. And all that served to remind her of was an abandoned church in the middle of Raccoon City, genetically engineered killing machines with twelve foot tongues, and a woman whom put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

"No god here…just the devil..."

The spikes retreated back into their platforms, and the Husks tumbled to the ground, looking directly at them with their white, soulless gaze before charging at them, the cybernetics in their bodies basking them in a dark blue tint.

Four shots were fired, and the crew of Alliance marines found themselves somewhat dumbfounded as the four Husks fell to the ground simultaneously, all each with a single bullet through the head. Alice, whom was already lowering her sidearm, was walking towards a moderately standing and fair conditioned warehouse, or prefab unit as Shepard had called them when she had earlier ordered Alenko to search through for supplies, throwing a casual comment, meant more for herself then the others, though they still heard her.

"…and his now permanently dead minions."

Not bothering with trying to open the door manually (as she didn't have clue as to do so as there was no doorknob or keypad), she simply gave a strong kick, making sure to use her good leg, and knocked it off its hinges.

Didn't stop the intense throbbing of her leg though. Whatever that thing was made of, it was hard, heavy, and hurt like hell when she kicked it.

The pain in her leg grabbed her attention until several startled screams erupted from inside the prefab unit, and two shots were fired and impacted her shields.

It served to grab Alice's attention, and not the good kind. Reacting on instinct, Alice pulled up her pistol and fired several shots, hitting a man in the leg and arm, the others slamming into the crates in the room, causing the other two hiding survivors to lower themselves on the floor, crying out in surprise and fear.

"Cease fire! Cease fire damnit!"

Leveling her pistol down, though loath as she was to do so, she witnessed Shepard, Alenko, and Williams rush into the room, but still giving the man who shoot her a nasty glare for doing so, Alice kicked the man in the ribs as he gave pitiful whining sounds, clutching at his wounded arm and leg.

"Quit your whining. If you think that hurts, I can shoot you somewhere else. And where I have in mind, it's going to hurt a lot more. Much more."

The whining didn't stop, though it did lower to a softer pitch.

"Alenko! See what you can do about those wounds! Williams, I want the rest of these civilians secured! I want any and all weapons on their persons removed and disarmed! On the double!"

Both soldiers nodded in return to the orders before splitting up and doing their assigned tasks. Williams forced each of the two remaining members of the survivors hidden away in the prefab unit against the walls, patting them down for any and all forms of weaponry. Alenko started to examine the injured man's wounds, though nothing seemed serious as he slapped some medi-gel on it, sealing the wounds and numbing the pain.

Shepard in turn, rounded on her, and with a barely repressed snarl, said through gritted teeth, "What the hell were you thinking? Shooting into a room filled with civilians? You could have killed someone!"

Alice in return, glared right back at her.

"One, they fired at me first. Second of all, I know how to use a gun, as you obviously witnessed not a few short minutes ago. Thirdly, don't assume you can tell me what to do. I'm not military, nor under your command. At best, this is a mutual alliance built on need. As soon as I find out where the hell I am and how to get home, I'm gone. Understand?"

Shepard glared if anything else, harder at her. Green eyes grew darker as rage was burning underneath, but she, for the sake of her mission, buried it and instead gave a stiff nod.

"Understood. Just know that if you pull a stunt like that again, I won't hesitate in shooting you. Understand?"

The last word was said mockingly, and Alice returned the sentiment with one of her sarcastic smiles.

"Right back at you."

Shepard gave no response, instead turning back and heading towards Williams, whom had just finished patting down the two other civilians, informing the Commander that neither of them were armed or carrying anything aside from the clothes on their backs.

Moving forward, she introduced herself, keeping her voice low and steady as possibly, attempting to convey a non-hostile position.

"My name is Commander Shepard, Executive Officer of the SSV Normandy. Are you alright?"

The man still clutching his leg, despite the fact that it undoubtedly no longer hurt, growled, "I just got shot by that psychotic bitch! How do you think I'm doing?!"

One of the other civilians, and the only other male, commented, "Shit Cole, you started shooting as soon as the door was opened! Why do you think was going to happen?!"

Scowling, the man identified as Cole, spat out angrily, "I was trying to protect your sorry ass Blake! Maybe next time I won't bother and just let you get killed!"

Before anything else could be said, Shepard raised her voice, shouting out, "Enough!" before turning her attention to the only other civilian, a woman, and asked in a soothing tone of voice, "What's your name? What were you doing here?"

The woman, who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown, whimpered softly, "Fiona, my name is Fiona. We're just farmers, and were working out in the fields when that…thing appeared out of nowhere, the sky turning red like blood, and the noise! That terrible noise!"

Shepard, realizing that the woman would be of no use if she didn't calm down, grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to lock eyes with her before saying softy, but nonetheless firmly, "Calm down! Your safe, and I promise nothing is going to happen to you! Now I need you to take a deep breath, and tell me exactly, to the best of your knowledge, what happened?"

Following her words, Fiona took a deep shuddering breath, attempting to calm herself before she began explaining the events she had witnessed, from the appearance of what could only be described as a "mothership", landing near the spaceport, and then several of those "machines" dropping from the sky and starting to attack. She had fled along with Cole and Blake to the shed afterwards, hoping that help would arrive.

All in all, they didn't truly glean anything important, though Shepard felt slightly intrigued at the 'noise' that the mothership utilized, as Fiona described it as "the shrieks of the damned, coming from inside your own head, trying to claw its way out".

Just as they were about to leave, Blake, who had assisted Cole in standing on his own two feet, though rather awkwardly, nudged him and said, "Hey, Cole. Maybe you should give them the stuff."

Clenching his teeth, he hissed out, "Shut up Blake!", but the damage had already been done.

Facing them once more, the Commander asked, "What stuff? Is there something I should know about?"

Sighing, Cole responded, shooting Blake another dark look before saying, "Some guys at the spaceport were running a small smuggling ring. Nothing major. In exchange for a cut of the profits, we let them store packages in our sheds. I figured there was something we could use and I found a pistol, though a fat load of help that was."

It was here Cole shot Alice an angry look, which she ignored in favor of checking over her gun, 'innocently' lining up targets with it, one of which being Cole himself.

Flinching in fear he was going to get shot again, he hurried on with his explanation, ending it with, "Anyway, I suppose you'll get a better use out of it then I did."

It was here that Ashley spoke up, anger overriding all emotion. "I can't believe you people! We're out there protecting your sorry asses, and the first thing you do is try to rip us off?! Those 'packages' your holding could've saved a lot of lives today!"

Cole looked a little frightened at William's anger, and the expression on her face if anything, was downright murderous. Alice herself couldn't help but be reminded of Rain, and her ferocity that she had during their time in the Hive, of which she had admired her for. Even in the face of impossible odds, she still stood strong, and was willing to give up her own life to save that of her own and Matt's. For a split second, instead of Gunnery Chief Williams, she saw Rain Ocampo, dressed her black BDU's, hair pulled back in a ponytail, eyes narrowed in a heated glare.

She blinked, and the image was gone, though the sense of familiarity still remained.

"Look lady, we had no idea that a bunch of geth was going to invade! It was a little business deal; we didn't mean to do any harm!"

Williams's expression if anything grew in severity. "The road to hell is always paved with good intentions, and yours were hardly even close! I have half a mind to take that _stolen_ gun of yours, and shoot you right in the-!"

"That's enough Williams! Stand down!"

Looking at her commanding officer with a bit of stunned, if not hurt expression, Ashley broke out in a voice tinged with restrained emotions, "Commander…these…they…my squad could have…!"

Understanding immediately where the young officer's thoughts were headed, Shepard lowered her voice to a softer pitch, using that same placating tone of hers that she tried to use on Alice earlier.

"I understand how upsetting this must be for you Williams, but threatening the man isn't going to help. Besides, with as advanced as the geth are, it stands to reason even if your platoon had the resources in this warehouse made available to them at the time, it probably wouldn't have made a difference in the end."

Ashley wasn't willing to accept that, and her anger had only grown, both at the colonists who stabbed the men and women assigned to give their lives for them in the back, and at Shepard for protecting them, even if rationally she could see that it was in both their and her interest, bit out bitterly, "I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

Shepard winced slightly, though she believed that was the best she was going to get out of this situation. She herself was pretty angry at what the colonists had done, but it was in the past sadly, and nothing could be done about it, at least for the moment. She planned on writing a report with Cole and his associates mentioned regarding the smuggling, though in light of the situation at hand, nothing would probably be done about it until the colonies recovery, and that's assuming they even remained on the planet after today's events.

She gritted her teeth slightly as Alice stepped beside Ashley, and put a hand on her solider, shooting her an understanding if not consoling look.

She did not trust the woman initially, and based on their short travel together, that lack trust had been reinforced with a bare hint of repressed hostility.

Originally believing that the colony's situation had been responsible for the woman's hostile reactions and attitude, Shepard was beginning to believe there was a more underlying problem to the woman's demeanor. She was willing to ignore it, possibly have her examined by a medical professional and diagnose her PDSD, but that could wait after she rendezvoused with Nilhus and recovered the Prothean Beacon. Until then, she was an extra gun and pair of eyes, which in theory, was a vast improvement of the limited set she had now.

She immediately regretted the decision when she started to shoot at the group of civilians that they had just found.

And, as the woman reminded her, she wasn't military, and thus had no need to listen to her or her orders. It was something that she was not used too, as even civilians tended to do whatever a soldier said during hostile situations, and the fact that Alice wasn't grated on her. She had originally planned on taking her to the Citadel and dropping her off at the nearest medical center, or at least have Dr. Chakwas look at her on the Normandy, but she didn't feel all that comfortable being near the woman, let alone having her on one of the most advanced Alliance ships in the galaxy.

Her thoughts about the woman, Alice, was broken as Ashley spoke, her voice still more than a bit angry as she barked out at the farmer for the identity of the smuggler who used the shed for storage.

"What's the bastard's name? Who's your contact?"

Cole put his hands out in a defensive gesture, shaking his head in the negative.

"He's not a bad guy alright? He was just trying to make a few extra credits on the side. Besides, I'm not a snitch."

Reaching forward and grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt, Alice lifted him up in the air, a rather astonishing feet considering the fact that the man was a good deal taller than her, as well as heavier.

"Either you tell me your contact's name, or I'll break both your legs and leave you out for the geth to find. I'm sure you've seen what they do to humans that they find alive, haven't you?"

Stuttering, and about to wet his pants, Cole managed to choke out, "O-okay! Okay! His name is Powell, I swear! That's all I know!"

Nodding her head, and tossing the man to the side, Alice smiled slightly as Ashley gave a snort of disgust. "No honor among thieves. Shouldn't be surprised, considering that they had to have little to no honor in the first place to steal from soldiers…"

Shepard held back the rebuttal she wanted to make. There was a fragile trust between herself and the Gunnery Chief, and she did not want to strain them anymore than necessary, especially given that her squad not only just recently was KIA, but also the fact that the very people they had died for were stealing supplies from them. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize the woman further and break their already weak trust.

Looking at the group of smugglers, she said, "Stay here, and stay out of sight. You should be safe until the Alliance arrives with a relief effort. Understood?"

All three farmers nodded their heads, Blake assisting Cole to his feet before making their way further into the shed and behind the crates once more.

Giving a signal to move out, Shepard took point, Alenko right behind beside her, Ashely taking up the center and Alice in the back.

Making a quick sweep of the area, they continued moving forward and up a hill, in which Ashley took the opportunity to hang back a little bit, walking beside Alice and gave her a bit of a nudge with her shoulder.

"Thanks for getting that guy to spill the beans."

Alice gave the woman a brief glance before giving a careless shrug.

"Think nothing of it. The little bastard deserved it."

Ashley smiled slightly, though it seemed strained, and kept walking beside Alice, who got the distinct impression she wanted to say something further, but remained silent.

It was a few minutes later, as they were approaching another hill, that she started to speak again, her voice distant with a hint of pain underlining it.

"I was part of the 212, an infantry unit that was assigned to protecting the dig site and the scientists. I knew all of them on a first name basis, and we were…close. Like a family. It hurts, knowing that I'm alive and they're not."

Alice really tried to ignore her, she really did. She had enough shit on her plate without somebody else bending down and adding theirs to it.

But she couldn't. The words may be different, but the sense of loss was still there, the same underlining tone of regret, grief, and loss, just as she had heard in Carlos' voice when he had stated that he was not in charge of that small convoy of thirty plus survivors in the middle of the Nevada desert.

She had walked out on Carlos during a troubling time, though Umbrella had left little else choice for her, and had been unable to lend her support as a friend should when they were faced with such heavy responsibilities of ensuring the safety and security of the people under their protection. He had eventually become disenchanted with his leadership skills, believing that he was costing more lives than saving them, and eventually gave up the role to someone else, this someone being Claire Redfield, whom had equal trouble in handling the responsibility.

Alice really tried to ignore the Gunnery Chief, but some wounds just ran too deep to close, and this was one of those few wounds that Alice had suffered that had yet to scar.

Wesker had mockingly implied that her friends were her one weakness, and he was right. Even now dead, their ghosts still haunted her, and it was the sad and desolate look in Carlos' face, both at Detroit and later in Nevada, that compelled her to speak.

"I…understand how you feel. I had friends once, close friends, good friends, who had stood by me through thick and thin, even when I didn't want them too, or when I didn't return the gesture. One by one, they all died, and if they were lucky, in the middle of a firefight. If they were unlucky…"

Thoughts of what happened to Matt Addison crossed her mind, and following that, the fates of Rain, Terri, L.J, and Jill. Unlucky didn't do their fates justice, ironic considering how unjust they were in the first place…

"I know exactly how you feel, and if I found out that there might have been a slight chance they could have survived, any chance at all, and that they were never given that chance because some idiot had smuggled away weapons or provisions to make a quick buck, I'd be pissed off too."

It wasn't the first time that Alice cursed the name of Percival S. Parks, and wished he was still alive, if to only kill him again for the horror he had created, and for all the death that followed. He, Isaacs, and Cain, for their greed, stupidity, and inability to see beyond their own selfish goals.

Williams looked at Alice with a sense of candor, letting down her hair so to speak, and smiled an honest smile, though there was still a hint of sadness behind it, her earlier ire gone.

"Thank you, Alice."

Alice smiled in return, and for the first time since she arrived on this forsaken colony, was it an actual honest one.

"Not a problem Williams."

"Ashley, Alice. Call me Ashley."

Alice's smile if anything got slightly bigger.

"Fair enough…Ashley."

The moment of comradeship lasted only a moment, before it was broken by the sound of a single gunshot…

* * *

Alice looked at the corpse at her feet, a rather detached look on her face, even though on the inside her mind was running a mile a minute, as well as her heart.

Staring vacantly at nothing in particular, was a body with a single entry wound in the back of its skull. It was nothing that she was not familiar with, as when she had traveled on her own, and with the "Strike Team" that she, Carlos, L.J, had formed shortly after the T-Virus started to infect the U.S on a national level, she had found her fair share of dead bodies that had been shot in the back of the head. Betrayal at its best, but at the very least whomever did it was playing smart, and not adding one more undead to the nearly infinite legion that was roaming the planet. Still, it was disheartening to see, as the victim in all cases had to have trusted the person they were with explicitly, and for them to have their life ended on just a whim…

Guilt rallied inside of her, as memories of what she had done to members of the "Strike Team", and then later Angela, when Umbrella believed it was time to regain their "lost property". She shoved the guilt and the memories aside, even if the one with Angela was, as always, hard to bury, before focusing her thoughts on the corpse before her.

The corpse of, according to Shepard and Alenko, their contact and Shepard's handler, Nilhus.

They neglected to mention that Nilhus happened to be alien.

Originally, she had believed it (it was to disorientating to think of it as a 'he', both for the fact that it was an alien life form, and because 'he' was no longer among the living), was some new virus strain from Umbrella, which caused severe mutation, but the look about the being, even dead, was too elegant and controlled to be a mutation, even one which Umbrella cultivated and directed, much like it had with Nemesis.

The implications of what she was seeing, and what it could possibly mean were not in her favor, and Alice actively tried to keep such thoughts out of her head.

Time-travel, alternate dimensions, a galaxy far, far away…she felt like her insides wanted to pool at the pit of her stomach which had become an ice cold vat, while at the same time feeling the urge to throw up.

She felt sick. Sicker than she did when she realized she wasn't human anymore, after discovering what Umbrella turned her into.

Distantly, she heard Ashley say, "Something's moving over there, over behind the crates!"

The ever growing familiar sound of weapons being drawn grabbed her attention more fully, and she glanced away from the dead body towards her fellow group, and saw them aiming at what appeared to be a man dressed similarly to the group of farmers they had meet earlier.

Hands raised in the air, he cried out in a terrified voice, "Wait! Don't—don't shoot! I'm one of you, I'm human!"

Shepard gave the man a look for a few seconds, obviously trying to see if he had any visible or crudely hidden weapons on him, and once he passed her visual inspection, holstered her pistol, Alenko and Ashley doing the same.

"Be more careful. This is a warzone, and you could have gotten killed."

Alice grimaced slightly at Shepard's reply. She was starting to wonder if anything, aside from her that is, ever truly fazed the woman.

The man in response merely nodded his head, undoubtedly relieved that he had found some friendly faces or at least people who weren't keen on shooting him.

"Yeah, thanks. I'll remember that. Anyway, my name is Powell. I saw what happened to that turian. The other one shot him."

Alice caught the word 'turian', and assumed that whatever the being that was now dead at her feet was during life, that was its race's name.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She felt her lips turn slightly at the slightly patronizing, if not aggravated turn of speech that the Commander's voice had taken. So she did have her limits after all, though she reasoned that the situation at hand was rather stressful, in more ways than one…

Alice frowned slightly, only paying half attention to the conversation, noticing how the other turian apparently had a name, mentioned by his supposed friend, now laying in a pool of his own blood, (which was blue, and only reinforced Alice's belief that she wasn't in Kansas anymore), and that it was Saren.

She ignored the rest of the conversation, instead focusing her eyes rather steadily on Powell, and recalling something only a short while ago.

_ "O-okay! Okay! His name is Powell, I swear! That's all I know!"_

"Your name is Powell, right?"

Powell, whom had been bemoaning the loss of his supervisor and the entire team of dock workers he had been assigned too, glanced up at Alice, flushing slightly at her form. It was easy for him to disregard the two women in uniform, seeing as they were encased in combat hard suits, nothing appealing about that, even if the one in pink had a nice face and the one in black had some pretty eyes. That and they were military. He wasn't too keen on getting involved with any woman who could kick his ass, and kick it badly. The other one though, was dressed in near rags, and while covered in dirt, blood, and sweat, she still looked beautiful. Another colonist perhaps? He wasn't too sure, since he never saw her before, though he rationalized that she may have been part of the science team that had been sent to recover the beacon. She looked more like a scientist then a farmer anyway. She definitely wasn't military, so maybe he could try his luck a bit later?

"Uh, yeah. Why, you know me?"

"In a manner of speaking."

The woman stepped closer, hand going to her hip, her shirt riding up slightly and revealing the creamy flesh of her stomach for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to send Powell's imagination running. He could only dream of what the rest of her looked like, especially in his bed, covered only by his sheets, face inching towards his own, her blue eyes narrowed, smoky and burning in…rage?

Powell gave a slow gulp as he realized that the woman's face was indeed inches from his own, the crate he was hiding behind the only thing separating them, rage burning within the ice blue depths of her eyes, a pistol leveled underneath his chin.

"I meet your little buddy Cole, a little while ago. And he said the most interesting things…"

Powell began to sweat, and tried to break the woman's grip on his shirt, which she had grabbed to hold him to her, preventing him from escaping.

And prevent him she did, as no matter how hard he tugged, he couldn't get loose. He went as far as trying to force the woman's fingers off of him, even trying to twist her wrist and break it, like he had seen in the vids, but she wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he tried. He felt himself trembling as a 5'8 and one hundred and ten pound woman was somehow able to hold him down, despite his own five inch height and eighty pound advantage over her.

Her eyes, which narrowed before, turned to slits, and he noticed vaguely the dawning expression on her three military compatriots, and the increasingly anger one on the woman wearing pink armor's expression.

His attention was brought back to the woman holding a gun to his chin as she continued monotonously, "Like how you operated a little smuggling ring outside his shed. How you've been stealing from soldiers assigned to protect and watch out for you, to give their very lives if need be."

Her eyes narrowed further, almost gaining a catlike slant to them, and he heard an infliction of emotion in her voice, something dark and foreboding.

"I can tolerate a lot of things, but thievery is not one of them."

Powell didn't know how she did it, but one moment he was standing on his own two feet, and the next he was suspended high in air above her, in which she was utilizing the ONLY hand she had on him at the neck of his shirt, before throwing him flat on his back, causing him to cry out in pain at the sharp impact.

His cry was immediately silenced when he felt a boot smash onto stomach, forcing the air out of lungs and a strangled groan wanting to escape his lips.

"Listen to me and listen well Powell. You did a very bad thing stealing away from the men and women whom had taken oaths to protect and serve. Because of your smuggling ring, you took away much needed supplies from soldiers whom in their dire time of need, could have used those supplies to survive. Instead, they are now nothing but corpses lining this miserable colony. Do you understand that their blood is on your hands?"

Tears were coming to Powell's eyes, and his trembling voice broke out, "It's not my fault! I didn't know that the colony was going to be invaded! Who would attack Eden Prime?!We're nothing but a bunch of farmers!"

The boot dug deeper into his stomach in reply to his answer.

"Perhaps for this beacon I keep hearing about? If there was little concern to be had for it, I'd imagine that this Alliance that these soldiers serve under wouldn't have been deployed them here, would they? A little thinking and common sense could have seen the logic and reasoning behind that, but yours apparently was smothered under all that greed and desire for a quick buck. Tell me something Powell, whom did you sell those military provisions too? Guerilla groups under the guise of revolution? Mercenaries? Pirates perhaps? Slave rings, drug lords? I wonder how many lives you've just destroyed handing off military grade weapons to people who would, no, _will_ use them to harm others. Can't be anymore then the lives already lost here on this colony, now could it?"

Shepard's voice broke through the quiet following Alice's speech, asking her to stop, and she simply ignored her and continued on, ignoring the Commander.

"Well Powell? What do you think? How many people do you think you've killed with a little harmless smuggling?"

Alice didn't bother to wait for an answer this time.

"I knew a man like you once. I was romantically involved with him even. I didn't give much thought to marriage, children, and finding that special someone since I was a little girl, but with him, I felt something. I fell for his looks, his charms, his wit, and you know what? He was a coward in the end, simply looking for his next big score. He himself was responsible for the death over five hundred people in the timeframe of twelve hours, some of those people friends of mine. He was very much like you Powell. Want to know what I did to him?"

Powell was blubbering at this point, scared for his life while also trying to deny his actions in causing the death of possibly dozens of people here on the colony. He tried to rationalize in his head, that it wasn't his fault, he hadn't known, and if he had…

What would he have done? He knew the answer; he just didn't want to confront it. His pride and belief that underneath his crooked dealing and lazy demeanor, he was a decent person underneath it all. But no matter what his brain said, his heart was a completely separate matter, and the heart does not lie.

"I killed him Powell. The circumstances were less than ideal, but I took an axe and slammed it in the back of his skull. I don't have one right now, but I do have a gun, and while a lot quicker, I'm sure it won't be any less gratifying."

Shepard pulled out her pistol, as did Alenko, both aiming right for Alice. Ashley however was at an impasse. Her training said follow Shepard's lead and pull out her assault rifle and train it on Alice, preferably at her vital points as to take her down fast should she prove dangerous, but another part of her wanted to see what Alice would do, to see what Powell would suffer through for his actions.

Whatever the punishment, it was too good for him, in her opinion.

Powell for his part was sobbing hysterically now, realizing that his life of living dangerously, of playing with fire, was coming to an end.

"P-please. Don't kill me…"

"You aren't giving me a reason not to. In fact, I have plenty of reasons to kill you."

Here Alice lowered the gun slightly, aiming towards the spot where his heart should be, finger a hairsbreadth away from pulling the trigger, much to Powell's anxiety, and just as he shut his eyes anticipating the shot, he heard the woman whisper quietly, "Unless…"

Seizing the fact that the woman was at least considering to spare his life, he yelled, "Unless?! Unless what?! Whatever you want, just don't kill me!"

"The supplies you ripped off. I want them. All of them. I also want the names of the men and women you sold them too, who they work for if any, and their contact information. You are also going to turn yourself, your friend Cole, and whomever else you were involved with in this little scheme to the proper authorities. You are going to admit just what you did, the reasons why, and take whatever fate they have in store for you with a smile on your face. Consider this your redemption, and your second chance. A chance that Spence never got, nor ever would."

Powell had no idea who Spence was, but he had a rough idea, and nodding his head enthusiastically to her request, began to spill the beans as it were, of all his past buyers, though the organization list consisted mostly of mercenary groups called the Blue Suns and Eclipse, and some pro-human political/military group called Cerberus.

Alice didn't care one way or another, but looking up at Ashley, and ignoring both Shepard and Alenko who still had their pistols out, if not just slightly lowered away from being fully trained on her, she flashed her a small smile, one in which the Gunnery Chief returned full force.

Wherever Alice currently found herself in, be it in the future, an alternate dimension, or even a dream that she had yet to wake up from, she knew that had found herself an ally, and possibly a friend.

* * *

**/-/Author Note\-\\**

* * *

**End of the second chapter. Took me awhile to write this one out, and I actually cut it a bit shorter then I had originally planned, but by this point, I already had enough and adding more just seemed to take away from it. The next chapter will wrap up the events of Eden Prime though, so be on the lookout for that, though it won't be a terribly long chapter, so shouldn't take me nearly as long to write it. Anyway, leave me a review and tell me what you think. Criticism as always is welcomed, as I do take what is said to heart and try my best to clear up any mistakes that may appear.**


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